


Three ficlets

by thetwistedcelestials



Series: Touch [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Friendship, Gen, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-22
Updated: 2012-12-22
Packaged: 2017-11-21 23:29:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/603252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetwistedcelestials/pseuds/thetwistedcelestials
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, the werewolves just needed to touch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own, nor do I claim to own any part of “Teen Wolf” or its affiliated materials.
> 
> This is cross-posted from fanfiction.net; I'll be editing the rest of this series and posting it here, hopefully on a weekly basis. It's all part of my effort to dip back into writing and the fandom.

It was about…touch. Scott didn’t have to think about it too deeply. He never did. After his mom had passed away, Stiles just needed it. Needed to touch someone, be touched by someone. It grounded him. And Scott was always there, always ready to help in any way he could. They never talked about it; they never needed to. Stiles had always been physical, had always needed that contact.

But lately, it was Scott that needed. Needed contact, needed to touch. Since…since he was bitten, all of his senses…needed. He breathed deeper, studying the layers and layers of scent. His eyes sought out the details, drinking them in. And…his skin, his hands…they craved touch. It wasn’t about sex. Or lust. It never was, not between them. When Scott complained about how the ‘study sessions’ with Alison never got anywhere, because of the wolf, Stiles joked that Scott had a teen problem, not a wolf problem.

“Your libido’s on overdrive,” Stiles would joke, knowing it would make Scott blush. But this…this was different. Stiles didn’t arouse him, didn’t disturb the wolf. Rather, Stiles’ touch soothed the wolf, in ways that sometimes even Alison couldn’t. Scott could never just lie in bed with Alison like this. He could never reach out and stroke her skin, nuzzle her bare neck, press his bare chest against hers, not without bringing out the wolf. She was still so new, so fascinating, a mystery to explore. A heady, intoxicating, addictive drug.

But Stiles…Stiles was familiar. Stiles’ touch was soothing. Stiles…Stiles felt like home. Perhaps unconsciously, even before the wolf, he had memorized Stiles. His skin, his scent, his breath. Scott didn’t crave Stiles, not the way he craved Alison. But, Scott needed Stiles, in ways he didn’t need Alison. Stiles felt like home, life safety, like family. Because it was about touch. And she couldn’t give him that. At least, not yet.


	2. Chapter 2

Derek needed to touch. He knew it, he knew the instinct to be close to someone, anyone, would drive him mad. When he had family, when he had Laura, he had touch. He never even needed to think about it. It was always there: hugs in the morning, wrestling in the afternoon, and sleepily tangling limbs at night. All the wolves needed it, could sense the need in the others. When they wanted to show love, they touched. When they made up after a fight, when they celebrated, it was always with touch. Always, there was touch. Even when it was just Laura and him, Derek knew he was understood. He knew she needed it as much as he did. And it had been enough, for a while. And now, he didn’t even have her.

During the day, he had his mission, his revenge to focus on. Seeking vengeance was a distraction, a Gordian knot to wrestle with, to submerge his mind into. But nights, nights were agony. Nights were spent sleepless, longing to howl, to connect, to touch. Laying in the large bed, imagining his parents, sisters, brothers, cousins, uncles, and aunts, all piled around him…it hurt, it physically hut. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, the echoes of memories taunting him

A lone wolf. An island. Unreachable. 

Maybe that was why he was always pushing Stiles against things, grabbing him, threatening him. Maybe that’s why Stiles never complained, not really. Maybe Stiles noticed how Derek would linger, noticed Derek’s reluctance to move apart. And maybe that’s why, one night, Stiles was just there, his arms wrapped around Derek. At night, when the hurt, the loss, the emptiness, the need to touch made Derek ache, Stiles was there, holding him, stroking his back, letting him touch, filling the emptiness.

Derek didn’t know how Stiles knew. Derek didn’t know why Stiles stayed. Then again, it didn’t matter how or why. Derek was…grateful. He needed that touch. And he knew Stiles wouldn’t ask for anything in return. And that…that alone was worth almost as much as the touch itself.


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles didn’t know how they had ended up here, the three of them a tangle of limbs, wrapped together on his bed. A wolf sandwich with him in the middle.

It probably had started when Scott and Derek started arguing. The words became heated, claws extending, eyes glowing. When his words weren’t enough, Stiles knew he had to intervene somehow. It wouldn’t do, to come to blows. So he reached out, he touched Scott, like he had done countless times before. It was just a hand on his neck. Not trying to restrain him, just soothing the teen wolf. Stiles felt his friend lean into it, felt his heart rate drop, the wolf inside back down. And suddenly, Derek was just there, behind him, yearning, aching, asking, needing. Stiles had reached back and drew the older wolf closer, pulling Scott closer at the same time.

Shirts were shed, jeans ripped-off. And the three lay in the bed together. Skin on skin. Just touching.

He smiled at the thought of someone walking in on them. His dad, Lydia, Alison. What would they think, to see the three barely-clad, embracing males? Maybe Danny would join. But what about Jackson? Would he still want the bite, if he knew about this?

Because Stiles knew, knew without asking that the wolves needed this. They needed each other. They needed to be able to reach out and touch, to connect. They were a pack. The pack lived together, hunted together. And, being Stiles, he couldn’t resist.

“So, the pack that sleeps together, stays together, eh? Kinky.”

“Shut up and sleep, Stiles” came the reply.

Stiles grinned, drawing his brothers closer to him, letting sleep draw him in. They were a pack. And, sometimes, they just needed to touch.


End file.
